


don't understand how I got to you (wasn't my plan, but so far so good)

by cryingintheclub



Category: Australian Rules Football RPF
Genre: A little angst, But mostly fluff, Established Relationship, Just fluff basically, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 15:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingintheclub/pseuds/cryingintheclub
Summary: All Kane wants is for Dusty to express how he's feeling, but Dusty messes it up before he gets the chance to.





	don't understand how I got to you (wasn't my plan, but so far so good)

**Author's Note:**

> I would have never thought I would be writing about richmond, but here we go. I wrote this in about two hours so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. 
> 
> title taken from [little by little](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41V6n2ALZAo) by tritonal and lourdiz

Kane’s tying his shoelaces, already dressed, by the time Dusty emerges from the showers through a thick cloud of steam. His head is down, biting on his bottom lip in frustration as his shoelace comes undone right after he finishes tying it. Dusty stifles a laugh from across the locker room as he quickly changes, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep after a particularly gruelling game. The wet conditions of the ‘G had banged him up more so than usual, but playing against Collingwood was always physical, especially after the preliminary final last year.

Dusty pulls one of his many designer oversized hoodies over his head when a hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. Dusty knows without having to turn around that it’s Trent, who’s wearing his trademark dopey smile whenever they win. 

“How’s the hammy?” Dusty asks, slipping on his trainers without bothering to put on his socks. 

Trent’s smile drops and turns into a grimace. “They don’t know if I’ll come back in time for the remainder of the home and away season,” he answers. 

“Is it the same hammy you hurt earlier this season?” Dusty questions, not actually seeing what happened at the time. 

“Yeah,” Trent replies. 

“Guess you’d rather be leaving halfway through the game for the birth of your kid instead of injuring your hammy,” Dusty says, and the mention of the impending arrival of Trent’s third child causes that dopey smile to reappear once more. 

Seeing that Dusty was ready, Kane gets up from his spot and walks over to Dusty and Trent. He pulls Trent in for a hug, asking him how his hamstring was. Dusty zones out of Kane and Trent’s conversation as he stretches his arms over his head, grimacing slightly at the tightness surrounding his shoulder. 

Trent leaves, saying he has to consult the physio before his scans on Monday, leaving Kane and Dusty to themselves. 

“Ready to go?” Kane asks, giving Dusty a soft smile. 

**-**

  


Kane decides he wants to drive, and steals Dusty’s car keys from his pocket before unlocking the Jeep and hopping into the driver’s seat, throwing his bag onto the backseat. Dusty just laughs and gets into the passenger’s seat, throwing his bag beside Kane’s. 

“Just don’t crash my car,” Dusty says as Kane starts the car. It’s a running joke amongst the players that Kane has gotten into more accidents single handedly than the rest of the team put together. 

“I’ll let you know that every time I’ve been involved in an accident, _I'm_ the one who’s been rear-ended,” Kane replies, defending his honour, as he reverses out of the parking spot without even checking to see if anybody was approaching. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Dusty snorts as Kane turns right out of the car park without using his indicator. 

Kane and Dusty fall into a comfortable silence, with the occasional sharp intake of breath from Dusty as Kane changes lanes and narrowly misses getting rear-ended or when he speeds through a red-light. 

They’re halfway through the journey home when Kane interrupts the comfortable silence they’ve created. “You know, I was sent something interesting while waiting for you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dusty replies and can’t help but smile at the light tone of Kane’s voice. 

“One of my mates sent me a text about the commentary from tonight’s game. Apparently Bruce McAvaney said you need me.” Kane looks smug as he says this. 

“If you say so,” Dusty replies disbelievingly, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s true!” Kane cried, “he said you need me on the field - which, I understand. I _am_ a very handy player.” 

“Not self-centred at all,” Dusty teases. 

“Just admit it: you need me,” Kane says, not giving this up. 

“Are you five?” Dusty asks, stalling. It’s not that he doesn’t want to admit it to Kane, he just can’t. He’s not very good at expressing how he feels, which is why Kane always made the first move. Kane has no problem in expressing and sharing how he feels to anyone and everyone, which balances the two of them out. 

Kane hasn’t responded, and as they approach a red-light, Kane looks at Dusty expectantly. 

Dusty sighs. “Come on. You already know the answer to this.” 

“Is it so wrong if I just want you to be the one to say it for once?” Kane’s trying to hide the hurt in his voice, but Dusty knows Kane well enough to know when he’s hurting. Kane looks straight at the road ahead, and accelerates as the lights go green. 

Dusty… doesn’t know what to say. He’s always assumed that Kane knew how Dusty felt without having to put it into words. _This_ was all new to him. Kane’s the first person Dusty had let this close to him. Even though he and Trent were tight, it took a long time before Dusty felt entirely comfortable around Trent. But with Kane, Dusty just knew he could trust Kane. He felt at ease with him as soon as Kane introduced himself to Dusty on his first day at the club. 

The silence for the rest of the trip home was now charged with tension. Kane refuses to look in Dusty’s direction, instead, looks straight ahead at the road or out his window when they stop at a red-light. 

This isn’t how Dusty planned for the rest of the night to go. He wanted to crawl into bed with Kane and have Kane give him a massage, working out the knots accumulated from the scrappy and dirty footy played. But now, Dusty was lucky if Kane even got into bed with him tonight. 

By the time Kane pulls up into the driveway, Dusty knows what he wants to say. He just has to find the courage to say it. As Kane stops the car, Dusty puts his hand on Kane’s knee. Kane freezes and looks down at Dusty’s inked hand on his knee. 

“Kane,” Dusty says softly, as though talking to a newborn child. He doesn’t get a response, so he tries again. “Kane, look at me.” This time, Kane does look at him, and Dusty can see the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes. 

A knot forms in Dusty’s throat and he swallows it down, coughing before opening his mouth to talk. His legs feel like jelly; a tell-tale sign of how nervous he was. 

“I can count the times I’ve opened up to someone on one hand,” Dusty begins, trying to ignore the feeling of the knot tightening in his stomach. Kane, sensing his nerves, places his hand on Dusty’s, which was still on Kane’s knee. “And you’re one of those people. When you first introduced yourself to me back in 2014, I felt comfortable, something that’s never happened before. I know I can be closed off at times and I’m bloody shit at saying how I feel, and you deserve better than that. I didn’t realise how you felt about it, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re always giving and getting nothing back.” 

Kane opens his mouth to object but Dusty beats him to it. “Don’t say it isn’t true.” At this, Kane sheepishly closes his mouth. His hand is still on Dusty’s, so Dusty takes this as Kane’s anger fading. 

“But yeah, you’re right. I do need you. More than I would admit.” Dusty’s words hang in the air for a few seconds, but to Dusty it’s feels like hours. Kane’s expression is unreadable as he looks at Dusty. 

But then Kane’s face breaks into a wide smile, reminding Dusty of the day that they got together; as they laid in Dusty’s bed and Kane had smiled at him like he had hung the moon. 

“There’s one thing Bruce forgot to mention, though,” Kane said, still smiling at Dusty. 

“And what’s that?” 

“That I need you too.” In a swift motion, Kane climbed over the centre console and into Dusty’s lap. Dusty places his hands on Kane’s lower back, just above his backside. 

“Clearly in more ways than one,” Dusty smirks as Kane begins to rut needily on his lap. 

“You’re one to talk,” Kane grumbles before he kisses up and down Dusty’s neck as he lowers the passenger seat all the way down. 

  


**-**

  


Dusty wakes up to the sun shining through the clouds and directly into his face. He groans as he gets out of bed to close the window that Kane had left open. Getting back into bed, Dusty looks at the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s eight o’clock. He doesn’t see himself going back to sleep and he doesn’t have the heart to wake Kane, who looks peaceful as he snores lightly beside him. 

(Not that Kane would ever admit that he snores). 

Dusty grabs his phone and begins to scroll aimlessly through his various social media platforms to kill time. Sometime during this, Kane manages to shift back over to Dusty, resting his head on Dusty’s chest, his facial hair tickling Dusty’s skin. 

It’s past nine o’clock when Kane finally wakes up, rubbing his eyes blearily as Dusty looks at him endearingly. Upon seeing Dusty already awake, Kane gives him a goofy smile. 

“Morning,” he says, voice deep from sleep. 

All the blood goes rushing down south as Dusty shifts awkwardly in his spot. “Morning,” he replies. 

Dusty’s shifting doesn’t go unnoticed by Kane, who gives Dusty a shark-like smile, now wide awake. 

“Someone’s excited,” Kane says and winks, his tongue in between his teeth in a mixture of smiling and laughing. 

“Shut up,” Dusty grumbles and puts his phone down on the bedside table as Kane pulls back the sheets and settles in between Dusty’s legs.


End file.
